


February Stars

by luchadorable



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luchadorable/pseuds/luchadorable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wendy Oldbag was dying. Miles Edgeworth knew what he had to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	February Stars

_February 25, 5:30PM  
Hickfield Clinic Room 319_

The constant, slow beep…beep… of the heart monitor was in sync with the steady drumming of the rain, consequentially settling a dismal veil over the late February evening. The woman in the bed had looked old a year ago; today, she looked ancient. The combination of the hospital stay and old age had caused the lines in her face to deepen into crevices. Her formerly thick gray hair, often teased up into a hairstyle reminiscent of the Golden Girls, was now thin and brittle, its color having turned to a more yellowish-white. Her eyes were now dull and rheumy.

Wendy Oldbag lay in the hospital bed and waited to die.

_February 25, 5:30 PM  
Hickfield Clinic_

He hated hospitals, always had ever since the series of unfortunate events that had taken his father from him. He had woken up in one afterward, and had heard the news there, that his father was dead. He didn’t want to be here, not at all, but he knew it was something he had to do. Upon entering the hospital he had frozen up, and the detective had to steer him toward the stairs. “C’mon, sir,” the detective said gently, and he allowed himself to be half-led to the stairwell. Elevators were another big no-no for him; they too had played a role in the loss of his father. The detective knew this about him, and even though they both knew that the stairs would take longer, that was where they headed.

He rigidly climbed the stairs, and was grateful when the detective didn’t rush him. She was on the third floor, and it took them almost ten minutes to get up there. The detective inquired about her room number and once the nurse relayed it, told it to him. He nodded and the two of them proceeded to her room. They stopped outside of the doorway, the man shifting about anxiously. The detective thought he hadn’t seen him so nervous since the trial that he’d had to face not as a prosecutor, but as the defendant. “Go on in. I’ll wait out here, pal.”

Miles Edgeworth entered the room and felt like he was going to die.

_February 25, 5:42PM  
Hickfield Clinic Room 319_

The normally rambunctious Oldbag looked small and frail in her hospital bed; Edgeworth recoiled at first, seeing her like this being so shocking compared to her normal self, but forced himself to venture further into the room. She had been on the verge of sleep, but looked up as the object of her affections for years walked in. Her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face, almost making her look like she had the last time he’d seen her. “Edgey-poo…” she whispered as he approached the bed. He held himself stiffly even as he pulled the chair away from the window and close to her beside (but not too close). As he sat down, his back was ramrod straight, his posture perfect. “You came to see me…” Her eyes seemed to be tearing up as she mistily regarded the younger man.

“Of course I did,” he said, his voice much more confident and calm than his body, but still strained. “How are you doing?”

“Well, first I fell down while on my way to work and fell right down the porch stairs because of ice and boy, that hurt like a sonuvagun! Then the panic from the broken hip caused me to have a heart attack! The paramedics were so rude! And…” Apparently the double misfortunes hadn’t completely erased her old demeanor.

Edgeworth listened attentively, too polite to do anything other than that. After rambling for about thirty seconds, Wendy, eyes fixed on Edgeworth, managed to wind herself down prematurely (normally her tirades would go on anywhere from five to ten minutes), which shocked them both.

“So…I’m not doing so well,” she ended lamely. A pause. Then, “The doctors don’t think I have longer.”

His eyebrows shot up at the statement, and he shook his head. “Ms.-er… Ol- mmph…” Though his words had served his façade well before, they failed him now, and it took him a moment to regain his compsure. “I don’t believe that… Wendy.” The way her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as he said her first name for the first time made him finally believe that coming here today had been the right thing to do.

“Oh Edgey-poo…”

“Miles.” The name was offered, not forcefully, but gently and with care, like a hand to a first-time lover. There was a short silence and he again wondered if he’d done the right thing.

“Oh Miles.” This time they both grinned, and even if his smile was tentative, Wendy thought it might’ve been the first time she’d seen a real smile on his face. “Miles, I’d like it if you’d move closer to me.” A pause. “That is, if it’s okay with you, of course…”

Still feeling vaguely like the fly moving even deeper into the spider’s web, he stood up and moved his chair right up against her bed and resumed his seat.

As soon as he’d sat back down, one of her hands reached out and caressed his face. Though the touch was gentle, he jumped like a bottle rocket had been let off in the room and jerked away, leaving her to draw her hand back as well. He almost immediately recomposed himself (or, at least, it appeared that he had done so) and leaned in slightly, finally breaking his previously perfect posture. “I-I’m sorry, you startled me, Wendy,” he apologized, but she shook her head.

“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done that without asking, I should be the one apologizing,” she said hastily. “I’m sor-“

“You may still, err, touch my face if you so desire.” The sentence was awkward and though he despised being touched, he knew that he should do this for her.

“…are you sure, Miles?” she questioned softly, and he nodded. More slowly this time, her hand moved forward and she gently touched her fingertips to his cheek. He flinched and closed his eyes but kept his face within touching distance for her. Wendy’s fingers gently traced his cheek bone, his chin his other cheek, his nose, his eyelids, his forehead, and for one of the few times in his life, Miles found the act of someone touching him to be calming instead of alarming.

Her hand now ventured to his hair; he winced again, but he bore it for her sake. After a few strokes of his bangs, she withdrew her hand and he breathed a sigh of relief and reopened his eyes. “Thank you so much, Miles.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and resumed his straight-backed posture before taking a glance at the clock: 5:58, almost time for the new Steel Samurai episode (which he would have to miss tonight, but he had Kay taping it and he would watch it later). Speaking of the Steel Samurai, that reminded him… “Wendy, I, err, remember that you liked the Evil Magistrate from Steel Samurai-“

“No, I liked Jack Hammer,” she snapped, and Miles nodded, slightly taken aback by her sudden snippiness.

“And the Jammin’ Ninja-“

“Juan Corrida.”

“M-mmph… well, I…I brought along some Steel Samurai and Jammin’ Ninja tapes, of the older episodes, if you would want to watch them…?” It had taken a lot of courage for him to bring one of his Steel Samurai tapes out into the public. The Jammin’ Ninja tape he had borrowed from Kay.

“That depends,” he said, her voice softer now. “Do I get to watch them with you?”

“Of course.”

So Miles Edgeworth went about setting up the moderately small TV, which had a VCR built into it, and for the next hour, they watched Jack Hammer and Juan Corrida, Wendy Oldbag’s fallen stars.

_February 25, 6:58PM  
Hickfield Clinic Room 319_

Despite the length of the episodes, an hour passed rather quickly. Sometime between the end of the Steel Samurai episodes and the beginning of the Jammin’ Ninja ones, Wendy’s hand again crept toward Miles, this time to grab one of his own hands, which were tented contemplatively under his chin. His head bobbed forward at first, as one of his hands and his support was pulled away, but then his head was held. His hand twitched slightly, as if he were going to pull his hand away, but after reconsidering things he let Oldbag keep his hand, and even squeezed her hand reassuringly as the Jammin’ Ninja’s theme song started.

But now the credits had rolled for both shows and Edgeworth was collecting the tapes and returning the TV to its previous state. With his back to her, Wendy spoke: “Why do all of my stars always die?” Her voice cracked on the last word, and he turned around in alarm.

“W-what?”

“First, my poor Hammer in that wretched accident…then that whippersnapper Engarde had my poor Juan assassinated…” Her looked at him, her eyes shining bright with tears, and he stood rooted to the spot until she said, “But you’re my star now, Edgey…Miles.”

He swept back over to her, the slightest of smirks on his face. “I have no intentions of dying any time soon, Wendy,” he replied, and she smiled through the tears, extending her arms in the universal gesture asking for a hug. With no second thoughts, he bent down and enveloped her small, weak body in his arms, trying to avoid thinking about the tears staining his jacket. “I’m going to have to ask you not to blow your nose into my cravat,” he told her, only half-joking.

“Did someone actually do that?” she asked, snickering slightly, and he nodded.

“Yes, unfortunately. However, that is another story for another day. Visiting hours ended five minutes ago.”

“Oh…” She looked disappointed, but there was nothing he could do this time. As he turned to leave, Wendy spoke up again. “Could…Could I have a kiss before you leave, Miles…?”

Edgeworth knew everything that had transpired in room 319 today had all been leading up to this; he also knew that she had wanted this all along. Moving slowly, he returned to her bedside and after a few seconds leaned down. Oldbag had her eyes closed, a serene smile on her face. He pecked her on the lips chastely. He expected her to grab his face and begin making out with him, but she didn’t – she simply returned the kiss for as long as he kept it up (which wasn’t long) and allowed him to pull away. “I’ll come back soon to tell you the story of my cravat, if you’d like?” he promised, and she nodded.

“That sounds perfect, Edgey-poo…” Her voice was tired again and she used the nickname in a purely teasing way.

“Get some sleep,” he advised her, once more turning to leave. “Goodbye, Wendy.”

“Goodbye Miles.”

_February 25, 6:58PM  
Hickfield Clinic Hallway_

He exited the room looking exhausted at first, and then slightly puzzled when the detective didn’t rush to meet him as soon as he’d left the room. His surprise diminished when he saw that the detective had fallen asleep on a chair outside of the room. With a small smile, he placed a firm hand on the other man’s shoulder, jarring him from his nap. “It’s time to go, Detective Gumshoe,” he said and Gumshoe immediately leapt to his feet…but then paused.

“Are you okay, sir?”

“I’m fine, Detective. Let’s go.”

February 26, 8:17 AM  
Miles Edgeworth’s House

The next day was one of Edgeworth’s rare days off, and after he read the newspaper, he was going to get dressed and start the day by returning Kay’s Jammin’ Ninja tape. He skimmed through the paper and would’ve been done at that if a familiar picture at the very back hadn’t caught his eye. WENDY OLDBAG, the obituary headline read. After carefully reading each and every word of her obituary, he sat the paper down. Had anyone else been there, he would’ve vehemently denied that his eyes were misty, and that there was a large lump in his throat. He had never really liked her, and had often wanted her to go away, possibly forever…but he had never wanted her to die.

Kay didn’t get her Jammin’ Ninja tape back until three days later.

_February 29, 3:04 AM  
???_

Though it was dark and somewhat chilly, he kept vigil at the newly turned earthen grave until he had to leave for work. Besides, he still had a story to tell her. “It all began during my first trial…”

_February 29, 6:27PM  
Prosecutor’s Office_

Edgeworth sat at his desk, dead tired and trying not to show it; he hadn’t all day and didn’t want to start now. Gumshoe, who had been out on duty all day, warily approached his boss. “Yes, Detective?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

“Why did you do that for, uh, that security lady last week?” The detective’s straight-to-the-point question was uncharacteristic of him, and Edgeworth looked up to see Gumshoe staring him down intently.

“It was something I simply had to do, Detective. I cannot explain my reasoning to you.” He paused a few seconds, then added, “Thank you for coming with me that night.”

At the gratitude, Gumshoe perked up considerably. “Oh, it was nothing, sir! You look tired, could I make you some tea?”

While normally Edgeworth wouldn’t let Gumshoe near his tea, he nodded.

And just like that, things were mostly back to normal.

As the detective left to brew his tea, Miles leaned back in his chair and swiveled around to gaze out the window. The sun had set by now and the stars were high in the sky.

Once upon a time, Wright had told him of a person he had encountered during a trial, a girl who had believed that people who died weren’t truly gone, that they simply became stars. Somehow, for some reason, that thought had stuck with him. His eyes scanned the sky, and one of the stars almost seemed to twinkle at him, much like the eyes of a certain someone during their first encounter. Maybe Wendy Oldbag had had it backwards. Maybe she was his star after all. And as Miles looked back to that scintillating star, he thought that he might just be right.


End file.
